


Like Real People Do

by Skrigget



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death, First Kiss, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad, Song fic, Stiles dies a lot but that's the whole point of the story so, angsty, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1975080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skrigget/pseuds/Skrigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles dies, neck snapped, eyes glassy. But Stiles also wakes up again and Isaac helps him out of his grave. And Stiles dies again and again and again... immortality doesn't suit him and through it all is Isaac Lahey, because he doesn't ask questions Stiles can't answer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Real People Do

_I had a thought, dear, however scary, about that night; the bugs and the dirt_

 

Stiles is sitting with his head against the cold window, eyes closed and hands resting in his lap. He can hear Scott and Derek talk in hushed voices in the room next door, but he doesn’t have the strength to open his eyes and actually care about the matter of their discussion. Besides, he already knows: It’s about him.

He can’t really blame them for talking about him, though he’d wish they didn’t. But then again, had it been him who’d seen his best friend’s neck snap, had watched his best friend’s body fall to ground completely lifeless, had it been him who’d seen Deaton declare his best friend dead or had it been him who’d seen before mentioned best friend raise from the grave then maybe… Yeah, he’d probably discuss some things as well.

He smiles to himself, gives himself a golden star for at least remaining some of his usual level of sarcasm. It makes him a bit calmer, actually, and he could use calm right about now.

He knows what they’re talking about anyway: they’re talking about what to do with Stiles. Stiles, who’s been technically dead for nearly two months and who, about fifteen hours ago, decided to crawl through layer upon layer of dirt.

It had been beyond terrifying. It had been the worst thing in his life – or whatever the hell this was. He’d been so frightened, he’d cried, he’d screamed, he couldn’t breathe. There was no air in the ground and he kept trying to suck it in, kept trying to force his lungs to breathe although they couldn’t. He was sure he was going to die and oh the irony of that.

 

_Why were you digging? What did you bury? Before those hands pulled me from the earth_

 

It’d been Isaac in the end who’d saved him. He’d been at the graveyard, had been standing there like it was perfectly normal and he’d starting digging until Stiles felt the hard metal of the shovel hit his hand and he screamed in pain and fear and agony and joy and –

Isaac had pulled him up, had looked at him for a brief second before fleeing back like Stiles was a barer of a grand disease. His eyes had been wide with fear and terror and he’d started mumbling ‘’no, no, no, no’’ over and over and over again, until Stiles thought his ears were going to bleed if the other teen didn’t stop.

And then he’d taken him home to Scott who’d cried when he saw Stiles. Had cried and jumped away, had looked at him with utter pain and despair in his big, brown, innocent eyes and it had killed Stiles, he’d felt like someone had ripped his heart out and choked him with it afterwards.

God, he wanted nothing more than to apologies. Apologies for not listening when everyone told him he should stay in the car, apologies for dying and for not staying dead.

Two months. God, it was such a long time.

 

_I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask and neither should you_

 

In the end Isaac takes him in which is ironic since Isaac doesn’t really have a place to “take him in” to, but nevertheless he clears a space on his messy floor, finds a matrass and gives Stiles a blanket. And neither of them asks any stupid question, neither demands any explanation to anything so they just… fall asleep. It’s that simple.

What isn’t simple though is everything that follows: the stars, the tears, the questions and the needles. So, so many needles and hungry eyes and forceful tongues and Stiles cannot understand anything. He wants to give them the answers they so deeply deserves and craves but he just can’t – he doesn’t have them.

 

_Honey just put you sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do_

 

And Isaac kisses him. Kisses him with a burning desire Stiles has never experienced in anyone before. He kisses him like he’s terrified Stiles is going to disappear again, turn up dead with his neck broken and his eyes wide open, glassy and empty.

And still no questions.

Deaton, however, comes up with this thrilling theory that Stiles is immortal, unable to die as long as his body can heal itself after the death has… happened. Scott asks what does that even mean and Deaton says that says it’s in Stiles blood and no – no! He doesn’t want that knowledge because then that means that his father must be – because it can’t be his mother, right? She’s dead, that must rule her out…

Right?

 

_I knew that look dear; Eyes always seeking. Was there in someone that dug long ago?_

 

Stiles dies again three days later. Get hits by a car. It’s a classic “wrong place, wrong time” scenario but it’s still frightening, painful and terrifying all together.

This times he wakes up in Deaton’s clinic, surrounded by familiar faces and that should be better than digging through miles of dirt, screaming for help and air or anything –

Right?

He isn’t so sure…

Isaac, however, him he can deal with. Because Isaac only uses his tongue to please, not to bother and so Isaac becomes the very reason for Stiles existing.

Isaac is there through it all. He stays through death number three and four and five and… he’s there all the way till number ten and by this time Stiles has figured it out. Death number nine is the worst: it happens far away from Beacon Hills, he’s alone, in a warehouse, choking on his own blood. He can feel it happening slowly, can feel life slip out of him like it has so many times before. He can feel tears in his eyes, and his fingers twisting with pain and he can feel everything and he wants to tell someone to just – finish it, finish him, do something. But he can’t, he can only make this strangled noise like he’s six feet under water, no air around him to fill up his lungs ever again.

And they burry him.

Digs a grave a couple of yards into this deep, dark forest and dumps the body. And he has to wake up a couple of days later with the sound of someone digging in his ears. And although he wants to freak out and scream and cry and do everything he did last time he remains silent until –

Until Isaac breaks the last layer and helps him up.

Stiles collapse into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder, drags his nails down the wolf’s back and cries and cries and – cries.

 

_So I will not ask you why you were creeping - In some sad way I already know_

 

Isaac knows what Stiles knows as well, has figured it out. And that makes the time together with him all the more… fragile. They consider telling the pack the truth but they don’t think they can handle it, so they simply enjoy it while it lasts. But Stiles catches Isaac’s eyes now and again and he looks so damn sad it makes Stiles wants to cry again.

They get years. Not many, but still: they get years. Some of them good years, even, before a werewolf pack attacks. Stiles finds it ironic that this is how it should all end: the way it started.

He hears Isaac scream, of course, but he also sees an alpha about to let his claws connect with Scott’s throat and he can’t – he can’t let that happen. So he grabs his dear bat, runs into the fight, lets the bat connect with the alphas back. The werewolf turns around, grab Stiles by the neck and –

He doesn’t hear Isaac scream his name over and over again until throat is dry and his lungs are starving. He isn’t the one left staring at his body – yet again, and he isn’t the one who has to explain to the pack why this time is different, why Stiles won’t wake up this time, how he’s used all of his lives. How this, this precious one, was the last one. And he gave it up willingly with that knowledge in his mind.

No, that’s all Isaac. And Stiles manages to feel bad for him in the last second before darkness overpowers him, but more than pity he feels – relieve. And he dies with a smile on his lips, a smile to hide the dry tears in his golden eyes.


End file.
